


No Further Injury

by scepterofstardust



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fushimi needs a hug: the novel, Gen, M/M, SaruMi - Freeform, Sarumi Fest 2016, it's a ficlet or somethin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepterofstardust/pseuds/scepterofstardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments taken from the first week of Fushimi and Yata's reconciliation. Wounds sealing and burning, smiles and frowns, time reversing. Together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in the pre-AX crunch for Sarumi Fest 2016, operated from Tumblr! Hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> tumblr: scepterofstardust  
> twitter: lunatic_yoongi

 

_The day you understand me will never come._

The words Fushimi had spat out months and months ago, hung in the balance. Choking him and shaking his ribs as he looked down at his Misaki, his enemy, his friend, his...everything. The sight of the smaller boy growling up at him and trying to pull answers from behind a locked door set adrenaline in his veins, as it always had. Though the initial excitement he felt faced with Misaki's rage had dimmed to a dull exasperation, recently. He was rather tired of fighting. 

 

But it didn't seem that he would be able to stop fighting. Fighting himself, fighting Misaki, fighting anyone that tried to pry into his chest and see for themselves how his heart beat. Anyone that could grab him and never let go. He had long ago resigned to a life of bolts sliding home, no matter if it was he who locked it, and his heart thrashing inside him with no release. He had long ago relented to many things, in fact. He wasn't sure if he could break the habit. 

 

  
_Why won't you talk to me?_ The words were forced down his throat and slowly ate away at him as Misaki demanded an answer, over and over, his voice layering with Fushimi's quickening breath. Misaki's hands on his shoulders burned and it felt like Fushimi's skin was tightening over his bones. Constricting his lungs and refusing to let him breathe.  _Saru, why won't you ever say anything?_  


 

" _Why?"_  Fushimi's voice was deathly quiet, breathless. Yata froze when he spoke. Fushimi slapped the hands away from his shoulders, expression incredulous as his voice rose. "You want to know WHY I've never tried talking to you, Misaki? _Really?_ "

 

"Yes!" Yata's voice was steady and laced with irritation. "All these years, you've never said a word, so why-" Years of mocking Suoh Mikoto's name to summon anger flashed across Fushimi's eyes.  _I've never said a word?_  


_No._

"You want to know so badly?!" Fushimi yelled, startling Yata a step back. "I doubt you'll want to hear it-"

 

"Of course I do!" The red haired boy was flushed with frustration.

 

"It's because you never LISTEN! You think I want to talk to a wall, Misaki? I think I've had my fill of that!" It was quiet for a moment, but Yata glared at him, eyes bright.

 

"What the hell are you talking about? You were my friend, you were part of HOMRA-" Fushimi's head pounded- "Of course I was listening to you! I've done nothing but listen, you just won't-"

 

"If that's what you really think you've done, you're delusional!" 

 

"Oh, really, I'm the one that's making things up? You up and left us, you left me, and for what, Saru? Why-"

 

"YOU are the one that left!" Fushimi roared, furious. "Don't you dare say I'm to blame for this!"

 

"I didn't leave anything!"

 

"YOU LEFT ME!" Fushimi's voice echoed through the room, and Yata's eyes widened in surprise. "You left me with nothing, Misaki! You convinced me that we could change things, that we could have a better world, and then you dragged me through HOMRA's pride and didn't notice the damage you'd done!"

 

"What?! You joined HOMRA with me, Saru, I didn't make you do anything-"

 

"Yes, you did! I didn't want to take Suoh Mikoto's hand, I didn't want that fire touching me, but I did it anyways! Do you want to know why?" Yata's fists were at his sides, his expression filled with confusion. Fushimi moved closer, leaning down directly into the other boy's face. "It was for you, Misaki! Always! I would have done anything for you! I gave you everything I had,  _everything,_  and you never really saw it, did you? You were too stupid, all those years, to ever see what you had done to me! Before I met you I had nothing at all, and like an idiot, I went chasing right after you wherever you went, just wanting you to keep me by your side! That was all I wished for, all those years, just for you to keep smiling at me and looking after me! For you to never discard me like everyone else!" Fushimi's chest heaved, and his vision was clouding. "But you, you had everything, didn't you Misaki?" Yata was trembling, and he stuttered out,

 

"Saru-"

 

"You had a home!" Fushimi screamed. He barely registered the wet warmth on his cheeks. "You had a house you could live in without being frightened, you had siblings looking up to you! You had all of HOMRA, your King patting your head, your hero to save you when no one else could! You had them to accept you for who you were, unconditionally! You had all of them around you, and you didn't NEED ME ANYMORE, DID YOU?!" His skin was white hot, covered in sweat as he dug his nails in. "I just faded into the background! I couldn't  _breathe,_ Misaki, where were you?! Where were you when I needed you the most? When I felt like I was worthless? You were-you were following your hero around, mindlessly turned towards him, and you stopped looking for me! I was there, less and less, and you never noticed, you never asked after me, but I was still there for you when it mattered, because I wanted to be beside you! I wanted to see you home safe, to share your victories, and I did, for so long, hoping something would change! I hoped you see through me if I stayed! But I got so tired of that, Misaki! I got tired of waiting for you to come back! So I made you hate me," Fushimi hissed, "so that you wouldn't forget me again!" He stopped, panting for breath, belatedly realizing the room was blurry. "It worked, didn't it?! You never stopped hating me after I joined Scepter Four, and you never stopped looking for a fight!" His breath was struggling to even itself out, and Fushimi viciously wiped away the tears impeding his vision with a scowl. "Stupid, idiot Misaki. You never forgot that." He lowered his arm as silence overtook the room and stared.

 

Yata was standing completely still, wide amber eyes fixed on him. Tears were dripping down his face as his whole body quivered. He was pale, and Fushimi noticed with a jolt that he looked terribly small. More importantly, he had stopped shouting back at Fushimi. His rage seemed to have left him completely. He seemed almost...almost  _scared._  


 

Fushimi clicked his tongue and turned to leave the apartment. Now that he'd told the truth, Misaki was scared. As he should be, perhaps. It was what Fushimi had expected, after all. Though he rarely showed it to anyone, his heart was an ugly sight. It was nearly enough to make him laugh.  _Run far away, Misaki. You don't want to be part of that mess, do you?_  

 

He stalked to the door and jerked it open.

 

"S-Saru?"

 

"What." Fushimi didn't turn around. A few mute seconds passed, and he was about to snort and walk away when Yata quietly said,

 

"You aren't worthless." Inhaling sharply, Fushimi's body tensed as he registered the words. 

 

_You aren't...worthless._

Fushimi clicked his tongue and stepped out into the night, yanking the door shut behind him.


	2. Day 2

It was half past midnight when Fushimi's PDA woke him. The dull buzzing sound of an incoming message was irritatingly close, and Fushimi rolled over with an annoyed groan. A few seconds later, the PDA went off again, and he sighed, shutting his eyes.

 

A third buzz. A fourth.

 

Fushimi huffed and pulled his eyes open, snatching the offending device off the bedside table. Blearily, he registered the name on the screen and the accompanying messages. Sitting up, he blinked at the device, at the words spanning it, and frowned. All of the messages were from Misaki. He didn't know why he felt so surprised.

 

_Can you come to the apartment?_

 

_I want to talk to you._

_Sorry if you're asleep, but it's important._

_Saru, please._

Fushimi stared blankly at the messages. Come to the apartment, now? After yesterday night? The shouting still rang in Fushimi's ears, and he winced and covered his face with a hand. If Misaki really wanted to talk to him, he would've tried harder. Fushimi didn't have it in him to withstand another pointless argument like that-

 

He jumped when the PDA buzzed again. More messages appeared.

 

_I'm sorry._

  
_I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. Give me another chance._ Fushimi ground his jaw and glared at the screen. As if he hadn't given Misaki thousands of chances.

 

  
_Please, Saru. Please come back._ Maybe Fushimi should laugh and ignore the messages. Maybe he should go to the apartment just to shut him out again. Maybe he should open that door and mock Misaki for thinking he could ever get another chance. That would be easiest. But...he couldn't forget the look on Misaki's face either. The shock, when he saw what he'd really done, when he saw Fushimi for what he had become and that he could be to blame.

 

  
_You're not worthless._  

 

Loosing a breath, Fushimi slowly put down his PDA and started getting dressed.

 

Trying to release the tension in his body, Fushimi knocked on the door to Yata's apartment. Almost immediately, it flew inwards, and Yata stood in the entrance, wearing shorts and a loose t-shirt. His eyes widened when he took in the taller boy.

 

"You...you came."

 

"You realize it's one am."

 

"Y-Yeah, sorry." Fushimi narrowed his eyes at the sheepish tone. Yata awkwardly shifted in the doorway. "Do you want to come in?..." The other boy wordlessly stepped inside, halting in the middle of the room as the door closed. Yata turned to look at him, the angles of his face sharp from the moonlight coming in the window. 

 

"Saruhiko..." The red haired boy's tone was soft, like he was talking to a cornered animal, and Fushimi hid his wince. He straightened and felt his heart rate accelerating in his chest. His blue eyes settled on Yata's russet ones. Steeling himself before speaking, he quietly asked,

 

"Did you mean it?" Yata paused, bare feet sinking into the carpet as he moved closer.

 

"Mean what?" His voice was still hushed. Fushimi inhaled deeply, glancing at the ground.

 

"You're not worthless. That's what you said." Fushimi lifted his eyes to find Yata nearly gaping at him. "Did you mean it?" He watched Yata's hands curl into fists.

 

"Yes, I did." It sounded firm, strong. "Of course I did, Saru." With some uncertainty, Fushimi took a step closer. Yata gazed up at him, his features full of guilt. "Of course you aren't worthless, you're...you're my  _best friend._ You fought with me, you helped me, you were always there and I-" Breath hitching, Fushimi painstakingly swallowed.  _Misaki..._ "I'm sorry," Yata whispered hoarsely, bowing his head. "I'm sorry that I...that I  _abandoned_ you, that I...that I wasn't looking,  _I'm so sorry, Saruhiko-"_  


 

"Misaki." Fushimi interrupted. He was rattled to find that his own voice was rough. Yata looked up at him, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes.

 

"What?..." Fushimi offered his attempt at a smile.

 

"Misaki...I know." They were both silent for a moment.

 

"Saru, I..." Yata blinked the tears back. "I want to fix this. I hope you know that, too." Yata held out a shaking hand, palm facing up. "Can...can you help me fix this? Say things so an idiot can understand?" Fushimi considered him for a few seconds.

 

"I...think I'm tired of fighting, Misaki."

 

"I think I am, too," Yata replied, a tinge of relief coating his words. "We can...end it." Fushimi gave a low laugh, shaking his head. He placed his cold hand on top of Yata's.

 

"The end, then, Misaki."


	3. Day 3

The mark was a scream against his pale skin. Irritated and charred, it was always peeling and itching until he couldn't resist scratching it. Then it bled, and scabbed, and it repeated. It had almost become habit, some days he forgot how disgusting it must look to the others. An ugly scar and a reminder that he wasn't to be trusted. A reminder that he was...a traitor.

 

"What is it?" Fushimi asked, lifting an eyebrow towards Yata, who had been staring at his HOMRA mark for some time and following the fingers rubbing it. Yata flicked his eyes up to meet Fushimi's, clearly startled.

 

"I..." Hearing the slight wobble in the other's voice, Fushimi smirked. 

 

"What is it, Misaki? Don't stutter at me."

 

"I'm not!" Yata was indignant, but he looked down at his hands, which were nervously twisted together. "I just, sometimes..." Yata let out a breath.

 

"Sometimes what?"

 

"I wonder if I could have stopped you." The honesty made Yata anxious, and he glanced at Fushimi for a reaction. Fushimi's brows lowered.

 

"Stopped me?" 

 

"From...from doing that to yourself, from hating HOMRA, from...from feeling like you needed to run from all of us." Yata was looking at the scar again. 

 

"I don't think you could have, Misaki."

 

"Saru, if I had just been there more, if I'd been listening, I...I wouldn't have caused you to do that. You wouldn't have...hurt yourself. It must have been painful, I just wish..." Yata shivered. "I just wish that you wouldn't have felt like you needed to do that."

 

"You could have delayed it, that's all." Fushimi answered steadily. "It was itching under my skin, I couldn't stand it there. I would have run eventually. Maybe a few months later, a year, more. I would have burned then. You aren't entirely responsible, Misaki. Maybe it's better it happened sooner, anyways." Yata sighed, his hands stilling.

 

"You really think that?"

 

"...Yes." Fushimi tensed involuntarily when Yata lifted a hand to rest on his shoulder. Yata stopped, looking up at him for approval. 

 

"Can I?..." Fushimi slowly scooted closer to Yata on the sofa. His heart was beating hard against his ribs. Yata gently touched the burn scar, fingertips like feathers on the marred skin. It took all his willpower to stay motionless when Yata's breath ghosted across it. "Does it hurt?"

 

"Always." Fushimi gave him a shaky almost-smile. Yata carefully pressed a cool palm against the mark, leaning up to meet the other boy's eyes again.

 

"Maybe...it doesn't have to anymore. Maybe I can look after it." Fushimi gaped at him for a moment, and when he hastily turned his head, Yata started, "Did I press too hard-"

 

" _No,_ you idiot," Fushimi rasped. He cursed his voice as it wavered. "No, I..." His eyes stung and the warmth sliding down his cheeks started before he could blink it away. The lump in his throat strangled his speech, and Yata froze in awe for a second before he moved forward and wrapped his arms around Fushimi's torso. Fushimi stiffened, but didn't pull away. He felt Yata smile into his shoulder.

 

"Saruhiko, don't cry."

 

"I'm not..." Fushimi glared down at the bright head of hair buried in his shirt. Yata chuckled.

 

"Sure." 

 

"Oi, Misaki." Fushimi glowered at him. "I'm fine."

 

"Mm." Yata lifted his head, a soft smile on his face. "I mean it, you know." Fushimi exhaled slowly, his heart still pulsing against his skin.

 

"I know you do."


	4. Day 4

Yata tapped the bedroom door open cautiously, poking his head in. Sure enough, the figure under the sheets hadn't moved. Fushimi's face was nearly buried in the pillow, the blanket up to his neck. Yata had a feeling that it was the best he had slept in months, but Saru would probably be grumpy if he brought it up. With a smile, Yata crawled into bed, kneeling next to Fushimi. He leaned over and touched the other boy's shoulder.

 

"Saru," he prompted gently. Without moving, Fushimi made a dissatisfied noise. "Saru, you have to wake up or you'll be late." A sleepy hand weakly slapped at his shoulder, trying to push him back. Yata couldn't help laughing. "Do you want coffee? I have a machine in the kitchen." Fushimi's face scrunched up as he groggily turned to face Yata and stretched like a cat.  

 

"Coffee?" He echoed, eyelids drooping. Yata snorted at him.

 

"Coffee," he agreed. Fushimi nodded slowly, rubbing at his face.

 

"Coffee." Yata chuckled at his repetitive answer. Seeing Fushimi so incoherent was certainly a refreshing change of pace. If he were entirely awake Saruhiko probably would have mocked him three times over and shoved him off the bed. Right now it seemed he was too lazy.

 

"You take sugar?" Flopping onto his side, Fushimi mumbled,

 

"Mm. Lots." Shaking his head, Yata playfully pushed against Fushimi's back, rocking him forward.

 

"Wake up, idiot." Fushimi growled quietly, a warning for him to leave before his displeasure at waking up got the better of him. Yata retreated towards the door. "Alright, I'm going. But you need to actually wake up this time." He saw Fushimi's scowl and grinned.

 

Yata was putting breakfast on the table when Fushimi walked in wearing his rumpled uniform. Raising an eyebrow, Yata handed him a mug. 

 

"You might want to iron that." Taking a sip of his coffee, Fushimi grimaced.

 

"If I wear it like this for a week, I could probably get the Captain to do it for me. I'll bet he's got an iron in his office drawers." Yata squinted at him.

 

"What?"

 

"He's got everything, somehow." Fushimi looked towards the table and paused. "What's this?..." Yata frowned at the confusion in his voice, glancing around to be sure he wasn't missing something.

 

"Um. Breakfast? There isn't vegetables, if that's what you're worried about." Fushimi pulled a face.

 

"No, that's...not it." Yata stared as Fushimi fixed his eyes on his coffee like it was a fascinating artifact.

 

"Ah...Saru?"

 

"You didn't need to do that," Fushimi muttered, swirling his coffee. Yata regarded Fushimi with an incredulous air.

 

"You...are such an idiot. Of course I don't need to." He covered the mug with his hands, and Fushimi reluctantly raised his eyes. "Saru. I'm taking care of you. I promised myself I'd do that a long time ago. I'd do it every day, stupid." The other parted his lips, but nothing came out. Yata let out a breath and dropped his hands, walking towards his chair. After a moment, he looked back at Fushimi, who was gaping at the spot he'd been standing.  _Idiot._  "Oi. You need to hurry or you'll be late, remember?" Yata pulled back his chair and sat down, picking up a fork.

 

"Misaki?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Thank...you." Fushimi swallowed and scratched at the back of his neck nervously. Yata's face softened, and he pointed at the chair across the table with his fork.

 

"Sit down and eat, Saruhiko."


	5. Day 5

The room was nearly pitch black when Fushimi opened his eyes. He blinked, remembering how the sun had been filling the space, and distantly realized music was playing in his ear. He could make out the cord of the headphones draped across his chest and on the couch, weaving over his hand that was lying at his side and up an arm that wasn't his own. The fog of sleep left him gradually, and Fushimi sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the couch too much. Yata was fast asleep next to him, barefoot and wearing comfortable clothes. His expression was peaceful, only visible from the street lights coming in the window, with his mouth slightly open. His hands were curled into his chest, and Fushimi almost laughed at how childlike he looked, holding his PDA between them. Sharing headphones and their music was an tradition from their middle school years, and Yata had suggested it after Fushimi came home with hope in his eyes. Fushimi had startled himself by agreeing, considering that he had essentially given up on being able to do something like that again, something that close. It was silly, he knew, to be hesitant, now that he had moved in and consented to sleep in the bed with Misaki, even as he'd been assured over and over that he could always refuse. But after a moment he'd only nodded and gone to find his headphones. That had been after dinner, but they'd both been exhausted and must have fallen asleep at some point. Fushimi stretched his arms over his head and allowed himself a small smile as he took in Misaki again. Rarely did he see him so still and content looking. It crossed his mind to wake him up so he could sleep in the bed, but the thought of disturbing him wasn't a pleasant one. He was already comfortable enough, it seemed. Fushimi silently took his headphones out and moved to do the same to Yata. He set both sets aside and went still when Yata croaked out,

 

"Saru?" Fushimi laid back down and looked over at Yata, who was blinking drowsily. "What..." Fushimi didn't quite realize what he was doing until he had reached out and run a hand through Yata's messy hair. 

 

"Go back to sleep, Misaki, you have a busy day tomorrow," Fushimi whispered. Yata was peering at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle, and he didn't seem to hear Fushimi's words. It was, if Fushimi dared to admit it to himself, endearing, so he swallowed his nerves and leaned forward to press his lips to Yata's forehead. "Go to sleep, Misaki," he said again, pulling away with a smile. Something that looked like surprise registered in the other boy's glazed eyes, and Fushimi felt heat blooming in his face, but Yata seemed to accept his words and he relaxed back into the couch. Yata closed his eyes and curled a bit closer, warmth clinging to his skin and touching Fushimi's. After he was sure Yata was sleeping again, Fushimi let out a breath and got ready to sleep himself, settling into the couch. A few beats later, he couldn't resist and tilted his head towards Yata. Though it was slowly sinking in that he was here to stay, he forgot some days. Forgot that he had Misaki, again, that he wasn't still out of reach. Forgot that he could come here-come  _home_ -and Misaki would always be here. It felt like a lie, in some moments, but eventually, he could let go of that. He could accept that this was his, some day. But times like this, they could ground him until then. Misaki could ground him, without fail.

 

Maybe things hadn't changed as much as he thought.


	6. Day 6

The door was in front of him. 

 

The door Fushimi had fled from so many times, that he had feared forever. A door with chipped paint now, after years of disuse. Fushimi carefully laid his hand against his side, reminding himself of the knives strapped there and their ability to slice nearly anything. Namely, flesh and bone. He slid one knife into his fingers and opened the door, eyes scanning the narrow entryway. It was dim inside, darker than he remembered, and Fushimi gripped his weapon tighter. His footfalls echoed far too loudly on the hardwood as he felt his way to the main room. Memories were rushing forward and trying to blind him. A child crying, flames, the pain of a sprained ankle from the jump out the window. He fought them back, gritting his teeth, and at last walked out of the entryway, into a room he'd tried very hard to forget. The furniture was gone, he noted at first, and his vision circled to the far end of the room.

 

The knife clattered to the floor. 

 

Misaki. The Misaki he had destroyed himself in the name of, the one he would go to war for, the one who slept next to him and vowed to never leave his side again. His Misaki, who he revered and refused to let go of. The boy he would always wait for, always look for behind him.

 

Misaki was on his knees, beautiful eyes wide and full of panic. Blood was dripping from his face, his arms,  _everywhere oh god,_ and pooling on the floor. It stained his bruised legs, his white knuckles, his dry lips. It took every ounce of Fushimi's will not to scream. An arm was locked around Misaki's shoulders, excruciatingly tight, holding him up, and another was pressing the tip of a blade into his cheek. Fushimi's gaze fixed on the face of the man holding his world, and he stumbled backwards in utter horror. A tall, thin figure, ghostly and clothed in black, just as he remembered. A cold sneer and a lilting voice chasing up his spine. It all rushed at him, and Fushimi's heart seized in denial, he wasn't seeing this, he couldn't be, he was gone, he was dead, no _no no-_  


 

"Oh, monkey! You came. Me and your friend have been waiting for you." That voice, the sugar in it, paralyzed him in a second, and Fushimi heaved out a breath. _No. It had to be a strain, something-_  


 

"Saruhiko, aren't you listening to your dear father?" Fushimi was frozen, his mind scattered, the fear of so many years rising in his throat and threatening to choke him.

 

"N-No, it can't be you, it..." Fushimi's voice cracked and he tried to slow his breathing.  _You can't be weak, you can't._  

 

"Why wouldn't it be? I'm the only logical choice, aren't I? I'm the only one who's like you, right?" A sob racked Fushimi's body before he could stop it, and he watched as the man dug the tip of the knife into Misaki's flesh.

 

As Niki Fushimi, the ghost that would never stop haunting him, carved a single word into the injured skin.

 

  
_T-O-Y._ It was crudely written in cuts, all of them bleeding hot, all over Misaki's body, across his face wherever it could fit, down his arms and his small wrists, on his collar, blood soaking into his white shirt. As the last set of letters was finished, on his cheekbone, Misaki whined in pain. The sound was deafening and Fushimi finally moved to attack, only to find that his feet would not obey. Terror filled his bones as the man-Niki-smiled in pleasure, wiping the bloody blade on Misaki's shirt.

 

"So? Should I finish him off or should I let you do it? I suppose you could, unless you still have an affinity for this one." Niki's lip curled. "I certainly hope not. I went to the trouble of getting him for you and dragging him here so you could end it. No use continuing a lie, hm? You got too attached to this boy, I think it would be best to move on to a new toy, don't you?" Fushimi frantically shook his head as Niki approached.

 

"No, no, I won't-"

 

"Fine, I'll do it. You're still too weak." Misaki feebly tried to twist away as the man grabbed him again. Fushimi locked eyes with the other boy, still desperately trying to get to him, and he flinched when Misaki began struggling, his knees wobbling as if they were going to give out entirely. Blood leaked out of Misaki's mouth when he opened it, tears streaming down his face and stinging the cuts.

 

"Saru," he sobbed, voice breaking, "Saru please, please he's going to hurt me, he's going to _kill me_ Saru _I'm scared_ -" Niki pressed the blade into his neck, silencing him with a gasp. The man giggled as a thin red trail ran down Misaki's skin.

 

"He still wants you? Monkey, I think you broke your toy."

 

"He's not a toy," Fushimi whispered, panic impeding his voice. He had to get his knife, he had to get to Misaki, he had to save him-

 

"Really? Then what?"

 

"I.." Fushimi could not catch his breath. "I-I love him...I love Misaki, I always have-" He was interrupted by a harsh laugh. Niki tightened his grip on Misaki, making him grimace, and fixed Fushimi with a malicious stare. 

 

"Love? There's no such thing, stupid boy. People like you and me, we don't love. We use. You should know that better than anyone, you took your little prize and made him feel so much guilt that he couldn't possibly walk away. You made him think it was all his fault, didn't you?" The words sunk in and chilled Fushimi's core.  _I didn't, I would never do that, it isn't all his fault, it isn't-_ "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. He's leaving now, isn't he?" Fushimi inhaled unsteadily. Niki roughly took hold of Misaki's jaw, holding his head upright. "Any last words, little bird?" Misaki made a wheezing sound as he attempted to speak, and began to cough violently. "Hm, I guess not. Then, your time is up." The world tilted as a foot slammed into Misaki's back, knocking him on the floor, and Niki raised the knife, grinning like a wolf. "Watch closely, monkey. This isn't love."

 

Blood splattered on Fushimi's face, and everything else fell away as he screamed in the silence.

 

"Saru?" Yata's voice rose in alarm as he shook the other boy's shoulders, trying to wake him. Fushimi made a distressed noise and shrunk away from him. Yata had woken some time ago when he had heard sounds coming from the space next to him in bed. He'd rolled over to see that Fushimi was twitching and whimpering in his sleep, obviously in the middle of a dream. Yata had gently tried to rouse him, but it only seemed to get worse. Fushimi soon after began crying and getting increasingly upset, breathing louder and louder, tossing and turning and arching his back. Yata was trying in vain to shake him out of it, but nothing seemed to be working. Fushimi cried out then, like he was in pain, and Yata went still, afraid to touch him. What if he was only scaring him further?

 

Fushimi's eyes flew open, dazed and unseeing, but seemed to immediately fixate on Yata, who was leaning over him. "Saruhiko? Are you-" He looked down in confusion when Fushimi blindly reached for his face, clumsy fingers pressing against his cheek. "Saru, what are you-" Fushimi was sobbing incoherently as he urgently felt down Yata's neck and chest, searching for something. "Saru, calm down, what are you doing-"

 

" _Misaki,"_ Fushimi breathed, the first clear word out of his mouth. His hands rested on Yata's collar, nearly burning him. " _Misaki."_ Yata forced himself to talk quieter, to stay calm, for fear of startling Fushimi into deeper panic.

 

"Saru? What's wrong?" He yelped in surprise when Fushimi lurched forward and latched onto him, legs tangling in his and arms wrapping tightly around his torso. "S-Saru? Talk to me-"

 

" _Misaki."_  A fresh wave of sobs racked Fushimi's body, and his thin hands balled in the fabric of Yata's shirt. " _Can't..."_  


"Can't what?" Yata asked him, hugging Fushimi closer. Fushimi's skin was slick with sweat. 

 

" _Can't...loose Misaki again."_ Yata frowned worriedly.

 

"Saru, can you look at me?" Fushimi shuddered and tipped his face up, cheeks shining with tears. His eyes were still cloudy. "Breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out like that. Just breathe." After a moment of blankly staring, Fushimi obeyed and slowed his breathing to even pants, his sobs stuttering. The fear in his eyes hadn't faded, though, and he was trembling a bit in Yata's arms. "Talk to me," Yata said again softly. Fushimi let out a defeated sigh and dropped his head onto Yata's shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "Saru..."

 

"I...I can't loose Misaki again..." The words were muffled. Yata looked down at Fushimi, smiling sadly. 

 

"You won't, Saru. I promise you. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you ever again. You believe me, don't you?" He felt Fushimi begin to nod but then he stopped. 

 

"What if...someone takes you away?" Fushimi questioned with a shiver. Yata's heart dropped. So that was what he had been dreaming about. He squeezed Fushimi and drew him a little closer.

 

"You wouldn't let them," he stated firmly, moving one of his hands up to hold the back of Fushimi's head. He felt breath hitch against his neck. "You wouldn't let anyone hurt me, Saruhiko." The hands at his back curled tighter.

 

"What if I can't stop them?" Fushimi whispered back hoarsely. He sounded small, guilty, and Yata kissed the top of his head.

 

"You will. I trust you, Saru. I'll always have complete faith in you. You couldn't fail me if you tried." Fushimi was silent, but Yata felt warm tears land on his shoulder. He rubbed soothing circles on Fushimi's tense back. "Saru, I think..."

 

_I think we're gonna be just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the pain :)


	7. Day 7

"Saru?"

 

"Yeah?" Fushimi dropped his gaze from the movie they were watching. Yata was earnestly looking up at him from his position lying across Fushimi's lap, head resting on the other's legs. "You're smiling at me like a sappy idiot. What is it?" Laughing, Yata raised his hand and slapped it against Fushimi's. Fushimi caught it and wrapped his fingers around it with an air of suspicion. "Misaki, honestly..."

 

"Nothing, I just...I'm just really glad we're here, you know?" Caught off-guard, the other boy stared at him. 

 

"What do you mean?" Yata's eyes danced with the television's reflection.

 

"I'm...I'm glad that you're here, I'm glad that we made up, I'm glad that you were honest with me, I'm glad that we can be together..." Yata trailed off, squeezing Fushimi's hand shyly. "We made it, Saru. Both of us, however long it took." A shiver raced up Fushimi's spine as he stumbled over his words. 

 

"I...me too..." Yata grinned at him. 

 

"It's not often you stutter like that."

 

"Shut up," Fushimi mumbled, trying in vain to fight off the warmth tinting his cheeks. The words were sinking, going in fast circles inside his mind, making his nerves tingle. Without invitation, the images from the night before were there. _I love Misaki, I always have._  He knew it was true, he had for a long time, and it was in his veins, begging him to say it now that he could. Fear chased it, fear of rejection, but that beast had grown weaker now, and it no longer had the strength to overtake him. Slowly, Fushimi tugged Yata's hand aside and was met with wide eyes when he leaned down to talk in Yata's ear.

 

  
_"I love you...Misaki."_  He was rewarded with a strangled breath, and he straightened to see Yata's face reddening. He smiled triumphantly and Yata weakly punched his shoulder.

 

"Stop that." His voice shook, and Fushimi's smile lost its mocking edge, traded for something softer and almost adoring. It warmed Yata's chest and made it hard to think. Yata thought it was his favorite sight.  _Saru..._  


Yata sat up cautiously and met the bright blue eyes he'd been looking into nearly forever. They were steady, for the first time since all those years ago when he'd first met Saru. They were healing, cracks and injuries reversing and closing up. He'd never wanted anything this bad, never felt that tug underneath his ribs so strong. They were both here, Saruhiko was safe and within his reach, and whatever tried to pull them apart would never succeed. His heart pounded, and Yata rested his head against Fushimi's shoulder.

 

"I love you too, Saru."


End file.
